


August Heat

by Nilozot



Series: Omega/omega [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fisting, Intersex, Kink Meme, Lactation, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Dean, Omega Sam, Omega/Omega, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sibling Incest, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 01:24:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4000633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nilozot/pseuds/Nilozot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam can't sleep he's so hot, so his big omega brother helps him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	August Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Horny and rummaging through old kink meme prompts, and what happens? Unrepentant ABO smut, that's what.  
> (Sam's twelve and Dean's sixteen in this one.)
> 
> Prompt: http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/88673.html?thread=34375777#t34375777
> 
> Sam and Dean are both omegas, and a disappointed John gives them suppressants to try to protect them. Despite the suppressants, they still get incredibly horny because they are unmated. John won't let them find mates because he wants them to remain hunters. The boys' solution is to play together relieving their sexual frustrations. They both produce milk and nursing on each other is both foreplay and comfort after sex. Neither have a big enough cock to actually fuck the other, but it feels good to suck each other off, and use dildos and their fingers/fists on each other's holes to simulate a knot. The whole thing makes John super uncomfortable (maybe he's a little turned on by it? maybe he watches sometimes?), but he figures it is the least disruptive solution for their lifestyle.

August. Georgia. No air conditioning. Even with every window wide open, the seedy motel room's like a wet hot old man's ass. Dad won't let Dean and Sam sleep in the same bed anymore, so Dean's on the grimy floor with only a pillow to keep him company, and it's still sweltering.

Dad's up on one of the twin beds snoring away, although how he can sleep in this furnace is beyond Dean. He can tell Sammy's really awake, though, by his breathing: Short, shallow, irrevocably aroused. The smell of Sam's dripping unmated cunt permeates the room. In the winter blankets smother the smell, but on hot summer days there's no hiding it. Dean knows his little brother is only moments away from stripping completely down and shoving his fingers up there, Dad on the next bed or no. So he gets up and shakes Sam's blown hazel eyes open with a muted “shhh” from his lips, and beckons him out the door. Neither one of them is wearing a shirt, even though it's a little indecent for a small town. The blast of relatively fresh air on their sweaty bodies is refreshing, for a second or two.

Dean leads Sam to a little patch of grass between the motel and some run-down office park behind it. It's inexplicably irrigated ground, soft green moist grass in a land of wilting trees and airborne fungus, and at first they both just sink down on the ground to feel its coolness on their backs. Soon Sam's breath is hitching again, though, so Dean knows he's got to take care of him, soon.

“C'mere baby bro, you sound uncomfortable. What do you want me to do?” He can guess how Sam's feeling, because they're the same, both unbonded omegas, but still it's nice to ask and not assume. Dean can easily remember what its like to be twelve, and so desperate to be fucked that you'll put anything up there: remotes, old kid's toys, furtively shoplifted cucumbers. It's actually easier now that Dean's older; it comes in predictable waves now, and he can dose himself with extra suppressants, if they're fortunate enough to have more.

Why Dad doesn't just give in and mate them off is still a mystery to Dean. It's not like there aren't plenty of hunters around to do the deed. Dean can think of several folks he'd be cool with being bonded to; they don't have to bring strangers into it. Maybe Dad's ashamed and doesn't want to deal with the fact that both of his sons are omegas, despite the all signs that were there long before puberty. Maybe he doesn't want to give up their company, as the last of his family. Maybe he just wants Dean around a little longer to help clean up this vamp infestation down South. Dean _is_ a pretty awesome vamp killer, but these heats are getting ridiculous. He could pop out a suckling babe or two – please, dear God, his breasts swell up to like C-cups sometimes and binding _hurts –_ and still go on hunts occasionally. It's not like the dark ages, when omegas could barely leave their homes.

In any case, now that Sam's in full puberty things are doubly worse. Dean swears their bodies egg each other on. And he doesn't want Sam to lose control and go off and fuck some predatory stranger, with all the attending dangers of disease, abuse, pregnancy, and/or accidental bonding to someone who knows fuck-all about hunting. So they help each other out. Like brothers should.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he repeats, even as he peels Sam's underwear off. Sam's on his back and already has knees open wide, tipped up, waiting to be filled. His tiny dick is flopped over on its side, so it's not even about fun and cock-orgasms tonight, but that frantic need to be stretched and pounded and sometimes _hurt_ to capacity and beyond. Both their sets of titties are rock solid and leaking too, but first things first. Priorities.

“Inside me. _Please_ , Dean, I'll suck you off for hours, I just need something… It isn't as good when I do it myself … _Please.”_

“Shhh, okay, I got you.” He shoves three fingers in without ceremony, and Sam whines and tips his hips, rocking hard to try and drive the fingers in further. Even at this open angle, Dean can't get in deep enough for his satisfaction.

“Slowly now Sam, I don't want to tear anything. Move with me and we'll get it all the way in. Yeah, that's it.” His body's still so small, it's amazing what can fit up there. Dean pushes in to the knuckles with his right hand, while guiding Sam's hip with the left. A slow gentle rhythm, not frantic. He adds his pinkie and Sam barely appears to feel it, but he's better controlled now, rocking and clutching the grass and breathing in deep gulps.

“Deeper, Dean. You're not inside enough. More, god, more. Just push in, _please._ ”

“I know, baby. You need a knot, but this will have to do. All fingers, try to relax.” Dean dreams sometimes of saving up for one of those newfangled toys that expand with fluid to huge size, right up against the cervix. Supposedly they even have double-sided ones, so two omegas can fuck each other and rub cocks or clits and hold each other on the full length of their bodies, all at the same time. He'd _love_ to hear all this begging and moaning combined with his own, and let Sammy be the rough one and climb on top of him and dildo fuck him with abandon for once.

Right now, though, Dean concentrates on stretching Sam's perineum to get his hand in. He's never caused a tear, but it always seems like a danger right at this point. Dean points his fingers and eases in barely half an inch at a time, while coaxing Sam's hip to rock in the opposite direction. More Sam's movements than his, so his brother can pull back quickly if something hurts. But nothing hurts tonight. Sam's producing so much fluid that Dean's hand quickly becomes coated, and with less than a minute of stretching he pops right in. Sam gasps at the sudden deepening of contact.

“Okay, Sam? You want me to fuck you or just fill you up deep?”

“Fill,” moans Sam. “Then come with you stretching me out.”

“Greedy boy.” Apparently orgasm _was_ on the menu tonight. Well, Dean would get him there, but nice and slow. With the same deliberation he pushes in right up to his slimy entrance to womb, then probes with his fingers tips to find all the sensitive patches that like to be stretched. Even without expanding his hand Sammy's clenching down and squeezing the hell out of it. Dean can only imagine what it would be like to have a huge cock like Dad's with all that muscle and lube bearing down around it. No wonder alphas liked to knot.

Dean rocks his hand just enough for it to fell like pulsing, and watches Sam's reaction. Sam's knees are so wide they're practically laying flat sideways on the grass. The upper half of his body is limp and languid, his hands flexing on the ground. Down below he's pumping his hips on Dean's hand, willing yet more deepness and expansion with every squirm.

“You need more baby, don't you?”

Sam can only nod. His breathing shallows out again as his body starts to switch from fuck-me knot mode to mellow tingly full-body orgasm mode. Omegas can come in so many ways, but between hormones, pheromones emitted by the people around them, and fuck-knows what psychological factors, it's a crapshoot what they'll want at any given moment.

Which is not to say Sam can't take anything bigger, so Dean curls his fingers into a full fist, his thumb pointed downwards to hit that one bundle of nerves towards his back. Sam finally cries out, shuddering through a mini-o, and closes his legs around the false knot. He's at his limit, calming down enough to enjoy the sensation of massive pressure and stretch. Dean grins at the fading contractions all around his hand. He can push his little brother to a bigger one, he just knows it.

Without moving the angle of his hand, Dean bends over and takes the entirety of Sam's little cock into his mouth. Both of them are only about two inches long even at full erection, hardly more than an oversized, differently-located clit. Dean sucks hard on Sam's cock, just the once to warm him up.

“Fucking tease,” Sam gasps as he releases it from his mouth, and Dean laughs.

“Hey, you're the horny one. Maybe we should roll you over to your knees and give you a good, deep pounding.”

“No.” Sam closes his eyes again and melts back into the ground. “Feels good, Dean, thanks.”

“Mmm.” Dean gently trails kisses up Sam's salty skin until he's just below the chest. This does put some upward tension on the fist, but Sam adjusts, angling his pelvis up to match and keep the pressure in all the right places. Sam's breasts are still small but swollen far more than they used to be, and the aureolae are thick with engorged glands beneath them. Dean can't help but wince, although his are probably in even worse shape. “Those look like they hurt. Should we work on that too?”

Sammy nods again. “The lanolin didn't do much, like you said. And I read in a book that they're supposed to self-regulate if you don't stimulate milk production, but look what happened.”

“Proving once again that Dean's right, books are wrong,” Dean chuckles. “That shit's written by people who want to prove omegas are all sluts, even when we just want relief.”

He's up close to Sam's relaxed visage, and likes to look him over. Okay, fine, maybe not _just_ for relief. It's unbearably hot, to see his own hand jammed up inside his little brother and watch him come down from his wound-up desperation. Sam's hair is stuck to his head and a fine sheen of sweat covers his skin. He smells delicious and milky. So beautiful.

Dean shifts again to lie down next to Sam, skin to skin, head propped up on his free arm. His head's strategically arranged at chest height so all he has to do is lean over to take one of those lovely titties into his mouth. Which he does, although it's hard to get a decent latch given how hard the actual globe is. Sam whimpers a bit, because this part does hurt until the engorgement is reduced. Dean flattens his tongue anyway and works it, until the sweet foremilk finally comes flowing in. The first sips are always the sweetest, but Dean doesn't drink much, not down to the richer hindmilk. He's only taking the edge off for now, so Sam can relax even more.

Later when his hand and both of their bodies are free, they'll have long, loving suckle sessions to drain each other dry. Sometimes they sixty-nine it so they're nursing simultaneously, sometimes they take turns and work each other up with hand jobs at the same time, until the nipple-cock orgasms sneak up and leave them spasming leaky messes. Dean's teaching Sam all the tricks. Which may or may not be useful for their bonded futures – another crapshoot, what their alpha mate will like – but at least their free youthful years won't be wasted.

Dean switches to the other side, but as Sam's discomfort is lessened, he can feel yet more twitching near his almost-numb hand. Deep motile contraction this time, waves emanating off Sam's uterus. He's rocking again into Dean's fist, in time with each suck. Dean knows it originates in some deep physical connection between breastfeeding and childbirth, although of course neither one of them has yet to experience the latter. They say the orgasms surrounding birth and its aftermath are the most intense of all, but all bonded omegas just smile at Dean when he asks about it and tell him he'll understand when the time comes.

Now Dean knows how he's going to get Sam off, and begins to suck at his breast even harder. Not for milk anymore, but just for stimulation. Instead of flattening his tongue to let the fluid flow in, he flicks just the nipple, over and over again. At the same time he moves the fist in and out, barely an inch at a time but enough to get a rhythm on Sam's deepest nerve bundles.

He doesn't last long at that rate. Sam finally remembers his hands and curls both of them in Dean's hair and cups the neck, pinning his brother to his breast and urging him on. Dean gets even rougher with the fist fucking, although he's hardly moving his arm; it's all about exerting just right amount of pressure, to work with the contractions instead of overwhelming them into pain. Sam moans with each jerk of the wrist, digging his nails into Dean's neck. And then suddenly he pushes over, and cries out so loudly everyone in the motel must hear, and every muscle clamps down and shudders in rapid succession.

Dean loves this moment, even though the pleasure isn't his at all. Loves the sounds he's extracted from Sam, loves the vibrations all over his young pretty sensitive body, loves how his taste instantly changes as a whole new set of hormones roll in. Dean releases the nipple with his tongue and buries his face between Sam's tiny tits, kissing and nuzzling his skin and licking his sweat.

Pretty soon, however, Sam's wriggling in discomfort, and Dean pulls himself away from the chest in order to carefully extract his hand. The urge for the false knot goes quickly sometimes, without the emissions of an alpha to sustain it. Sam lies limp on grass, wrung out although they hardy did anything resembling fucking. Dean moves back up and buries his head in Sam's neck, and extends his rather juiced-up hand across Sam's waist to hold him close. Even though it's like a hundred degrees outside and they're both sticky beyond measure, it feels good just to have someone's skin against your own.

“All better, bro?” Dean asks after awhile, when Sam's caught his breath.

“'Better' seems inadequate,” mutters Sam, and Dean laughs and practically punches him in the gut. Fancy words for a twelve-year-old. Dad had better match him with someone smart, or Dean'll go on a rampage, omega or no.

“Well if you can muster the strength, _my_ tits kind of hurt,” Dean pointedly remarks. “Don't have to do anything too creative or energetic, just lie there and suck.”

This time it's Sam turn to smile, and he scoots down and latches on as Dean rolls onto his back. He wraps an arm around Sam's smooth skin as the pressure is gently relieved, and the oxytocin comfort-hormone flows through him.

 

* * * * *

In the shadows behind a car in the parking lot, John watches his beautiful children slow down their lovemaking to a sensuous afterglow. He's on his hands and knees squeezing his inflamed knot in his huge palm, imagining it buried once more in his long-dead bondmate. John would never touch his sons, for the incest taboo between alphas and omegas, just like males and females, remains strong for a very good reason. But sometimes he finds it irresistible to watch their enthusiastic childish play. Improper for sure, but they are omegas destined to be married off and their sexuality irrevocably changed in the bonding, so what's the harm for now? Plus John has never been a proprietous man.

Dean doesn't know it yet, but John has already made a match for him with the hunter Rufus Turner, whose wife was killed by a ghoul years back. He's holding off consummating the bond until winter, though. John tells himself it's so Dean can help Sam through the worst of puberty; he can't imagine suffering alone with the boy in close quarters, Dean himself was bad enough. But the real reason is this, watching his boys just like this. Once Dean and Sam are gone – and he's already getting inquiries about polyglot Sam – his last sustained connection to omegas and their alluring, flamboyant sexuality will be gone. For John knows he will never again take a mate, not after what happened to Mary.

So John watches them, and pretends not to see when they slip in front of him. He knows they probably think he's ashamed to have omega sons, when it's the exact opposite: He is in awe of the sheer energy running through their lithe bodies, of their adaptability and endurance and capacity for pleasure.

Adolescence is such a short window in life. Best to enjoy it, for everybody.


End file.
